


Who Couldn't Stay Away

by Laylah



Category: Naruto
Genre: Dubious Consent, Festivals, Genderbending, Other, Pastfic, Seduction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-28
Updated: 2011-10-28
Packaged: 2017-10-25 00:50:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/269842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laylah/pseuds/Laylah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jiraiya would have thought—if he'd thought about this, which he hasn't, definitely not—the tongue thing would be overwhelming and kind of unpleasant, but it's a soft kiss, teasing, almost sweet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Couldn't Stay Away

It's a beautiful night for a festival, the sky clear, the air still warm even though it's full dark. The lanterns glow along the main street, music plays, and children dash from one attraction to the next. Jiraiya's belly is warm with sake he probably shouldn't have been allowed to have—but Sarutobi-sensei is happy to look the other way at festival time, so long as his students don't repay his trust by embarrassing him. Soon, there will be fireworks. Just about the only thing this evening still needs is a pretty girl to spend it with. Tsunade—

No, the bruises from the last time he got on her nerves are too fresh. She might still be annoyed. Jiraiya wanders through the streets of the village: looking, yeah, but also just enjoying himself. The ladies like a guy who doesn't seem too desperate, right? If he just plays it cool, things will work out. Like—there's a garden up ahead, with winding paths and neatly-trimmed trees, and a slim figure in a kimono standing at its entrance. She beckons to him and then disappears into the garden. Jiraiya grins. A romantic tryst in the garden under the fireworks? Sign him up.

He follows the beauty through the winding paths, admiring the way she makes it a chase: a faint crunch of gravel at one bend, the flutter of a painted silk sleeve disappearing behind a hedge. Such a tease. He might be in love.

At the far end of the garden is a tiny shrine overlooking a pond, and that's where Jiraiya catches up at last. For a second he wishes he were a painter instead of a writer, so he could do justice to the image: the red blossoms on the kimono cooled by the moonlight, slipping off one slender and pale shoulder; dark hair bound up elegantly with one tempting lock falling free.

Of all the stupid times to be tongue-tied, too. Jiraiya clears his throat, climbing the steps to the little shrine. "So, ah," he says, and the girl tilts her head like she's listening. For half a second he thinks of folk tales, the ghosts of jilted lovers, the beautiful dead women who lure men to their doom. No. That's ridiculous. "Nice night for fireworks, isn't it?"

The maiden laughs, sweet and low, and there's something familiar about the sound, but Jiraiya can't place it right away—and then she turns, and recognition stops him dead in its tracks. "Beautiful," Orochimaru says. "And here you are spending it with me. I'm flattered."

Jiraiya recoils, and almost trips over his own feet. "That's—you cheated," he says, his cheeks hot.

Orochimaru giggles, hiding his mouth behind his silken sleeve, like one of the ladies at the daimyo's court. His eyes sparkle, and somehow Jiraiya can't seem to look away. "Is it? If I could give you what you're looking for?"

This isn't a conversation Jiraiya wants to have while his blood is humming with sake. Or at all. Ever. But especially now, when his eyes keep straying to the teasing drape of the kimono and the delicate arch of bared collarbone. He _knows_ Orochimaru, has fought beside him for years now, and there are a lot of things he could call the bastard but "delicate" isn't one of them. This isn't right. "You're using a henge," Jiraiya accuses.

"Am I?" There's a sway in Orochimaru's step as he closes the distance between them, and he's smiling when he drapes his arms over Jiraiya's shoulders. He feels warm. He shouldn't feel warm, he's a...well, no, it's not like Jiraiya is slimy and warty like a toad. But Orochimaru really plays up the snake thing, and his eyes—his eyes are—Jiraiya feels like he's stuck, just staring into them, mesmerized by the way they shine.

Orochimaru kisses him. Jiraiya would have thought—if he'd thought about this, which he hasn't, definitely not—the tongue thing would be overwhelming and kind of unpleasant, but it's a soft kiss, teasing, almost sweet. And...it's the henge, or a genjutsu, or the sake; it's _not his fault_ , when Jiraiya's hands settle on Orochimaru's narrow hips and hold on instead of pushing away. When the sound Orochimaru makes into his mouth is a sweet alto moan that makes his cock stir. When the shift of Orochimaru's shoulders makes the kimono fall open further, and Jiraiya reaches for the sparrow knot of his obi.

The knot comes undone too easily, stiff silk slithering to the ground between them. Moonlight makes Orochimaru's pale skin look ghostly, almost blue. Jiraiya tries not to look down. "What are you _doing_ to me?" he complains.

"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?" Orochimaru asks, ducking his head coyly. He's too good at this. He's too pretty like this, however he's doing it. "Anyone who saw us would say you had the upper hand."

"Only because they don't _know_ you," Jiraiya mutters.

Orochimaru laughs his court-lady laugh again. "So mistrustful," he says, running his fingers down Jiraiya's chest. "Aren't we both here to celebrate tonight?"

Jiraiya frowns. _Is_ he being too mistrustful? Is it not reasonable for him to think that he's being messed with somehow?

As he hesitates, Orochimaru takes his hand and pulls it down between them. "Hey, hang on," Jiraiya says, and he means to resist, he's pretty sure, but when he meets Orochimaru's eyes again the tension drains out of his arm.

"Do you think I don't know you?" Orochimaru murmurs. "You think I haven't noticed what you prefer?" His other arm, still draped over Jiraiya's shoulders, pulls him closer, and he leans back against one of the shrine's pillars as he guides Jiraiya's hand—not to his cock, but down between his legs, fingers brushing for a second against his balls and then sinking easily into wet heat just behind them.

"You have," Jiraiya says, and that's about as far as his brain gets. "You." This _has_ to be a henge, and a damn good one, and somehow he didn't ever think—he's fingering Orochimaru's cunt. Even as a henge, that's—fuck.

"Mmm," Orochimaru says, clenching hot around his fingers. "How does it feel?"

"Good," Jiraiya says hoarsely. He leans closer, burying his face in the hollow of Orochimaru's throat, not looking him in the eyes. His chest is still broad and flat where Jiraiya leans into him, and that's...that's definitely the hard shaft of his cock pressed against Jiraiya's forearm, but Jiraiya rocks his hand, letting his fingers slip deeper, and that part feels perfect. "For you?"

Orochimaru shudders against him, back arching. "I want more," he breathes into Jiraiya's ear. His tongue traces the rim and Jiraiya feels the shiver right down his spine. "Deeper." He palms the front of Jiraiya's pants and squeezes. Jiraiya thinks about that slick softness wrapped around his cock and suddenly it seems less important to be wary.

"Okay," he says, and if it sounds a little breathless, well, whatever. Orochimaru doesn't even waste time smirking at him for giving in, just tugs his pants open in a hurry and takes hold of his cock. Jiraiya pushes reflexively into the touch. That kind of eagerness is something a guy could get to like. "You want to—should we lie down?"

"Like this," Orochimaru says, shaking his head. He wraps one leg around Jiraiya's waist—the good part about the snake thing, Jiraiya decides, all that flexibility—and arches back against the pillar for leverage as he drags Jiraiya close. "Right here."

It's like a scene out of a really dirty novel, Jiraiya thinks, the fine lady's disheveled kimono and the tryst in an empty shrine. Orochimaru _does_ know him pretty well. He gets his hands under Orochimaru's thighs, lifting them and pinning him against the pillar. Orochimaru wraps his legs around Jiraiya's waist and reaches down with one hand to guide Jiraiya's cock to his cunt—and he moans when Jiraiya fills him up, sweet and crooning.

"So tight," Jiraiya says, and he feels predictable but it's true, it's just right, slick heat rippling around his cock every time either of them moves.

"Mmm," Orochimaru says, holding on and burying his face in Jiraiya's hair. "Never done this before." That's a lie, Jiraiya's sure of it, but it's the best lie anyone has ever told him.

"It's good," he says, "you feel good," and he turns his head for another kiss. This time Orochimaru _does_ give him a little too much tongue, but it's not really enough to ruin things. Just...a little weird, a little unsettling. Jiraiya slides a hand into Orochimaru's hair, and the elegant swept-up shape of it comes undone, spilling over his fingers. Disheveled and fucked hard is a good look for arrogant genius ninjas, it turns out. Jiraiya would like to think he can even see a little living color warming Orochimaru's cheeks, but the moonlight makes it hard to be sure.

He's not going to last. He's got enough stamina for three ninjas when it comes to taking tough missions, but there's never been a mission that called for anything like _this_. Orochimaru flexes around him, doing something amazing and probably forbidden with his muscle control, and Jiraiya groans. "Yes," Orochimaru says, and yeah, maybe he's hissing a little bit by now. Jiraiya's cock doesn't care; he's past the point of being unnerved by the little things.

"Again," he says, "come on, please," and Orochimaru laughs against his throat and complies, the walls of his cunt rippling around Jiraiya's cock. It's too good— _he's_ too good—and Jiraiya can't hold on, driving in deep and losing himself in the white heat of climax.

Orochimaru licks the sweat from his throat as he catches his breath, and that's weird. Jiraiya pulls back slowly, and Orochimaru lets him go, getting both feet under himself with an obnoxious amount of grace. His cock is still hard.

"Did you, ah," Jiraiya asks vaguely.

"Get what I wanted?" Orochimaru asks. He smiles the creepy smile that Jiraiya is much more used to seeing from him, the one that means something awful is going to happen to somebody. "Yes."

 _That's_ not unnerving. Jiraiya tries to decide whether he wants to ask what the hell that's supposed to mean—and before he can make up his mind, there's a distant pop-boom and the red blossom of the first fireworks overhead.

Orochimaru shrugs his kimono mostly closed and reaches down to retrieve his discarded obi. "Enjoy the fireworks," he says.

"Hey," Jiraiya protests. "Come on, you should stick around for them too, we're—" and by that time Orochimaru has disappeared. "Teammates," Jiraiya tells the puff of smoke where he used to be. "Bastard." Leave it to Orochimaru to make something fun like sex feel creepy and uncomfortable afterward.

Jiraiya cleans up and tucks back into his pants as the fireworks continue to burst overhead. Maybe by now Tsunade will have forgiven—no. Jiraiya isn't the one who bets on bad odds. For tonight, he's going to cut his losses. He can wait to make up with his team until tomorrow.


End file.
